Beyblade: Beginnings - The Thief
by Prima-Axis
Summary: (AU) In the harsh and unforgiving streets of Moscow, Bryan stumbles across a strange Abbey. After breaking and entering, he discovers more than its secrets. Is it, perhaps, his destiny?


The early spring air, was thick with a cold, cloudy fog; it hung lazily, blanketing the city in its wispy mist. Pulling his dirty, worn winter jacket - that served as his only real shelter from the harsh chill - tighter around his small, slender frame, he pushed on through the crisp snow. His long, shaggy lavender hair was dirty and lank, and dangling constantly in a curtain over his eyes baring the same colour. He was tired and hungry, and he could not count how many weeks it had been since he had travelled to Moscow and found himself aimlessly wandering its unforgiving streets. He had hoped that leaving would have offered him a preferable fate, but with no money and no shelter, Bryan was beginning to reconsider the wisdom of his actions.

Carrying no possessions other than a worn canvas holdall bag which contained only the Beyblade he had crafted and anything he had managed to steal. His plan had been to sell these things steadily to provide money for food, but he had encountered greater troubles than he had anticipated selling these belongings and trinkets. Even hustling a few careless individuals for money had only provided him with so much, and Bryan was wondering if he would ever have the finances available to travel further.

He trudged on through the snow; he was looking for an infamous Beyblading spot, that he had heard about from a number of his victims. If it really was as good as they claimed, perhaps he could make his fortune and maybe rent himself a room for the night; that way maybe he'd have a chance to shower and sleep on a real bed. So far, he'd had spied no sign of this 'pot-of-gold' that he had been promised. In the distance he could just about make out the silhouette of a church or abbey, through the misty fog. It was not what he was looking for, but churches and abbeys often offered sanctuary for a weary traveller or a person on the streets; even if it was abandoned it would offer better shelter than the drafty warehouses he had been sleeping in. Following the path, he headed for the aged building.

As he approached the dingy and oppressive looking sanctuary, all appeared to be still and silent. He drew nearer to a crop of trees, to better view the place; it was a little shabby on the exterior, but most of the ornate features of the uniquely Russian architecture remained. It was probably still in some degree of use, but that did not mean that he could not find rest here. He ventured along the path leading to the large, wide wooden doors. A few feet away from the abbey's frontage, Bryan glimpsed a number of men dressed in long black robes, that obscured their features. Monks, perhaps? Maybe this place was a Monastery then. Taking up the cloth had never been on his list of ambitions, but if they were Monks, they would not turn away a person in need, a person that was willing to work for his meal. He wasn't entirely sure how he would approach them, but he was certain that he could think up something. Staying close to the edge of the building, he made his way closer to the gathering of men.

He could barely make out their conversation, but from what his ears could discern, they appeared to be discussing a break-in. Not the best time to arrive as a filthy, street kid looking for shelter then; especially when most of the possessions he carried with him were obviously not his own. He knew that first impression were a very important thing, even more so here in Russia, so he opted to leave for now and perhaps come back another day. As he started back towards the frosty hill and snow coated trees, he caught sight of a flash of metal in the bushes. He bent closer to inspect the discarded object; after all scrap metal always fetched good prices, and if he was lucky it would be something useful left behind by the thief that Monks had mentioned. Bryan stretched out a few fingers, and brushed away some of the leaves, twigs and other plant debris, to get a more comprehensive look at the item; it became quickly apparent that this was no piece of abandoned metal, it was some kind of monitoring device, most likely surveillance. Bryan couldn't think of a time that he'd ever heard of a Church, Abbey or Monastery having such a high tech security system. If they had the money for this kind of thing, he wondered what else they owned that could be so valuable. Maybe it would be worth the risk of sneaking inside and finding out for himself. It wasn't like this 'tip-off' he'd received was showing any signs of fruit, and he was going to need money again rather soon. If they had so much wealth, surely loosing a few items to feed the hungry and homeless wouldn't be too troubling for them.

He fished through his bag, and retrieved the modified Beyblade of his own design. It was possessed a bladed weight disc, which allowed it to cut through the air, making it faster and more aerodynamic; it also doubled up as a weapon in a pinch. If Bryan was going into this place, having a little back-up wouldn't go amiss. He crawled his way slowly from the bushes and made a rapid dash for a nearby archway. He waited in the shade, with his body pressed against the cold stone for the Monks to pass by. Using all the stealth he could muster, he followed after them to the interior of this interesting place.

Inside the building it was dingy, dark and highly oppressive. The stone walls were thick with generations of dust, dirt and grime that even the dismal lighting levels, did little to conceal. The air was thick with the scent of dust, musk and mildew. Already this building had an abundance of charm and charisma; perhaps seeking shelter here was off the menu, after all. Not wanting to linger around and run into anyone who might mistake him for the thief from before, he continued through the corridor. In the eerie silence of the Holy Place he heard the unnatural sounds of a mechanical motor running; glancing around for the source, he discovered that they had internal surveillance also. He chided himself for his folly; it wasn't uncommon for there to be both internal and external security. Before he could be caught, he placed his lavender-grey Beyblade onto the launcher and fired it at the concealed camera. It struck the device with a satisfying ease, causing sparks from the sudden electrical discharge, and smoke. Bryan hoped that all of their CCTV systems would be as easy to locate and dismantle. Not wanting to stay around in case someone was monitoring the system and had been alerted to his presence, he rushed onwards.

As he progressed onwards, he began to realise how much the place resembled a maze; all of the aged hallways, were uniform and indistinguishable from one another. There wasn't even the slightest hint of individuality that would offer a newcomer and idea of where they were or how to proceed to an area of more significance. The only sign that hinted that he was headed in the right direction was the increased number of security cameras, and the seemingly narrowing passageways. Despite his apparently endless sneaking, he had not found anything that seemed worth his effort. Bryan was growing steadily tired of this endless traversing, without gaining anything. When he noticed another doorway; he checked around but there appeared to be nothing hindering his entrance. By now, he was becoming aware that whatever this place was, it was no ordinary Monastery. He turned the handle and entered the space. The room was filled with a bizarre green glow, and large tubes that may have been filled with some kind of fluid. He approached them with caution, not wanting to trigger any alarms or hidden security measures that may have been protecting this area. One of the tubes came to life suddenly, startling him; inside a creature unlike anything he'd seen awoke and gazed at him with the eyes of a predatory bird. For a moment he was captivated, not only by fear but by the overwhelming strength the being possessed. He pressed a palm to the glass container.  
"Fascinating isn't it, m'boy?" A deep voice behind offered.  
Bryan wheeled around and raised his launcher; out of the shadows appeared a tall man of an impressive build, dressed in more grandeur than the other monks. He must've been in charge of this peculiar place. The other man smiled a thin smile, without humour or welcome, as he drew nearer to Bryan. The lavender haired boy felt his stomach clench uncomfortably; this man's presence alone was enough to give someone nightmares. Bryan narrowed his pale eyes, and aimed the launcher more obviously. The man wearing a strange hat began to laugh, a chilling sound equally without humour.  
"Why don't you put that down, m'boy; you're the one who's trespassing after all" The Priest swept closer, his long black cassock floating out behind him.  
His arm suddenly sprang from the robes and towards Bryan's launcher. Not wanting to be disarmed, he fired his trusty Beyblade at the man. It flew free off the launcher, and tore through the long black sleeve and the flesh of the man. He instantly withdrew his arm, letting out a gasp of pain. His grey eyes darkened, and Bryan knew that his actions had been of the wrong sort to deal with this kind of person. He controlled his Beyblade to leap up and strike at the man again, before he headed to the exit; better to leave the older man distracted than give him a chance to pursue Bryan. He made it to the exit, only discover it barred by the monks he had seen earlier gathered at the entrance. Uncertain of his choices, he let the adrenaline that was slowly filling his system, take-over; he lunged at them, knocking them into one another but not entirely clearing the path. He recalled his Beyblade, sending it at the monks who were now attempting to grapple with him. It sliced one of them deeply across the face; he howled in protest and dropped to his knees clasping his wound. Offering the others a razor blade smile, he redirected his attacks.  
Soon blood and black fabric littered the ancient stone floor, but the monks had not given up their attempts to subdue him. Bryan knew his equipment was quickly losing spins, he recalled the the Beyblade to hand, ready for another launch. Ripping once more, he threw himself at the large men and through into the corridor.

They were not long behind him, and now sirens - that were alerting others to the intrusion, sounded. Bryan could not understand how he came to find himself in situations such as these, but it was not an uncommon theme for trouble to find him. He felt pride that his Beyblade was standing up to the excessive use that it had been given since they ventured into this place; perhaps his workmanship was better than he gave himself credit for. Footsteps clattered along the maze-like corridors around him, which gave him no clear indication as to which of them was blocked or contained would-be assailants. Opting to stick to the path he entered on, he persisted onwards. It was not long before he encountered trouble; another group of monks had assembled in front of him, and these appeared more burly than the last. Cornered like the animal that the kids back in his hometown had often teased that he was, Bryan kicked into overdrive. He would not be caught and face whatever punishment these people saw fit. He ran full speed at the blockage, springing off the bodies of the would-be captors as he went; hoping to use the full momentum of his run-up combined with his body weight to force his way through - the principal was not unlike Beyblading. Large hands grabbed at him and attempted to restrain him, but he swung his legs and kicked hard at anything within reach. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, spreading the adrenaline throughout his system. His breathing was coming in more ragged gasps from the exertion, but he had no intention of giving up. Freeing himself barely from this group, he scurried along the stone floor with as much speed and stealth as he could muster. Finding a path that broke off from the others, he quickly tore down it, hoping that it would guide him to the exit.

Fate, apparently, had other ideas. At the end of the path stood the priest from before, he quickly restrained Bryan with ease; no matter how he twisted or fought, the priest's grip remained vice-like. When Bryan glanced at the older man's face he had expected to see anger or blind fury, but instead he found something else, something he was sure was worse; he was impressed. The priest gave Bryan a last thin smile, before he adjusted his grip; Bryan was uncertain as to what happened, but his world went dark.

-

When the darkness and fog that clouded his mind withdrew, he awoke in an unfamiliar place. It was pitch dark and spacious, but from his position on the hard stone floor he could not make out any defining features. He pulled himself up into the seating position; his head swam and ached, but with the absence of light it wasn't insufferable. It was almost entirely silent, but he could just about make out the soft whimpering of another in pain. He tried not to ask himself what this meant for him, and instead focus on gaining his bearings; Bryan was certain that he'd find no escape, but that didn't meant it wasn't a good idea to familiarise himself with the surroundings. After all, if he wanted to exploit them to his advantage, he was going to have to be aware of what he had to work with. With caution he hauled himself onto his feet, and looked around; the space appeared to be some kind of holding cell, the door even had bars. What kind of Monastery would have a prison of its own? But then again, what kind of Monastery would have labs like those he'd found himself in before? At least, he was sure they were labs.

"Please" a child's voice whimpered "Please, I won't fail again"  
Bryan wheeled around and took a few careful strides to opposite side of his cage. Peering through the bars he could just about see a younger boy huddled by the bars of his own cage. The boy possessed shoulder length, dirty blonde hair and a stripped blue jacket; from what Bryan could make out, his youthful face was streaky with tears.  
"I won't fail, I won't" The boy whispered the words over like a kind of mantra "I promise, no more failures"  
"Hey kid, you alright?" Bryan grunted through the bars; he felt like he had to say something to his fellow prisoner.  
The blonde boy swivelled to face him, revealing that the other side of his face was swollen and bruised; one of his inquisitive green eyes had been beaten shut. He appeared shocked at the revelation that another was down here with him, or maybe it was just that he didn't recognise him.  
"I-I'm f-f-fine" He stuttered, choking on tears that were not yet falling "W-who are you? I h-haven't seen you before"  
Bryan didn't really feel like giving out important details like his name, but he didn't mind being honest about the fact that he didn't belong there.  
"That's 'cause I'm not from this place; whatever this place is supposed to be" Bryan explained.  
"Y-you're not a ..." The blonde boy's voice trailed away "You've n-not heard of Balkov Abbey?"  
Bryan shrugged his shoulders, but realised that the gesture may not have been visible from the other boy's position; he told him "Can't say that I have"  
"I-it's a-a-a training p-program for Beybladers"  
"Looks pretty serious for a training program" Bryan commented.  
"O-only the b-best survive it; I-i-I'm what happens wh-when y-y-you fail" The blonde boy broke off into more sobs.  
Bryan doubted that he would receive much more valuable or comprehensive information from the emotional wreck, but it had at least offered a little insight into the goings on at this unusual place. He wondered if there would be anything he could do to comfort the other boy, but unawares of what was in store for the both of them, he couldn't really formulate an escape plan or offer words of reassurance.  
"What's your name, kid?" Bryan asked.  
The blonde boy glanced back at the lavender haired teen, tears trailing freely down his grimy face.  
"I-I'm Artyom, why?"  
"Well, Artyom, nothings' going to happen to us if it's only a Beyblade training project; no one is that crazy about Beyblading"  
"Y-you don't understand" Artyom protested "Th-there's more g-going on here than y-you know"  
"Such as...?"  
Before Bryan could receive Artyom's answer, a group of guards stomped their way through the stony corridor and stopped in front of Artyom's cell. One of the 'monks' unlocked the heavy metal gate, and reached in for Artyom. The boy started up his mantra again as they hauled him free of the darkness and carried him off.  
"Y-you don't understand!" He called to Bryan, his demeanour one of uncontrolled fear.  
Bryan felt a knot begin to form in the bottom of his stomach; what mess had he gone and found himself in this time.

-

Trapped in the dingy, stone cell situated in the under levels of the abbey, it was incredibly difficult to determine the passage of time; largely due to the absence of natural light or view of the outside world. There had been little for Bryan to do but consider the time that was passing him by, an attempt at escape and what exactly was going on here; eventually all of those topics wore him out, and his opted for another nap. He awoke to discover that the Priest from before was standing over him, observing him closely.  
"Ah, you're awake" The priest remarked, observing Bryan with what appeared to be amusement "That's good; perhaps we can have a little chat, then m'boy"  
Bryan sat up, glaring at the much larger man, but bit back on any words of response that wanted to leap from his mouth and wound the other man's self-esteem.  
"I shall take that as your agreement"  
The priest gestured for the guards that had hung back by the door, to take hold of him and escort him to wherever it was that the priest intended. Two giants, dressed in robes that made it difficult to tell them apart, grabbed Bryan and held onto him in a vice-like grip. The priest smiled thinly and gestured that they lead the way.

The only advantage that Bryan could find in being hauled rather ungracefully through the grimy and dank, stone corridors was that it gave him a chance to get more of a feel for the layout of the building. Most of the building was identical in its design, making each hallway not easily recognisable from another, but he did his best to remember what he could. The guards passed rooms containing all kinds of strange sights, but each time Bryan only caught the smallest glimpse; not enough to really understand what was happening. From what he had seen, this place seemed nothing at all like a place of worship nor any kind of Beyblade training program that he'd ever heard of. When they had at last reached their destination, Bryan was released and lead into a space that vaguely resembled an office. The priest was only a mere moment behind them, and after taking a seat in the high backed chair that sat before a large, antique-looking desk, he gestured for his peers to leave them in privacy.

The priest steepled his fingers together, facing the lavender haired teen; his unblinking grey eyes held a piercing gaze, and Bryan was convinced that the older man was attempting to regard his soul, merely with a look. After allowing a unnerving moment of silence, the older man cleared his throat.  
"I suppose you are wondering why I brought you here, and did not merely throw you back into the streets where you belong" His voice contained more than a hint of arrogance "The answer is quite simple, M'boy..."  
"I've seen too much" Bryan cut-in.  
The priest smiled his usually cold, thin and unfeeling smile "Not quite, m'boy, not quite; you showed me some very interesting talents, and as a nurturer of young minds, I believe you have potential"  
"For what?" Bryan asked, his tone unconvinced "If this is about to be some lousy speech about redeeming myself, I don't need to hear it"  
"I assure you, what I have to say is something that you will likely find very interesting; few in positions such as yours are ever given such an opportunity, you would be a fool to waste it, m'boy, without even hearing me out"  
Bryan rolled his lavender hued eyes pointedly, but allowed the older man to continue; after all, it didn't really appear as though he had a choice.  
"First why don't we try some introductions, hmm?" The priest suggested "I am Boris Balkov, father abbot of Balkov Abbey; and who might you be?"  
"None of your bloody business" He replied simply.  
"I believe we are going to have to work on your manners, but never mind" Boris sighed, before launching into a continuation "As I'm sure you're aware by now, this place is no ordinary Abbey..."  
"No shit; I wonder what gave it away"  
Boris narrowed his eyes dangerously, indicating a steady loss of patience; Bryan decided to be smart and control his urge to answer-back.  
When Boris was certain that his monologue would not face another stream of interruptions he continued "This Abbey is property of the Biovolt corporation, and is a unique training programme for skilled Beybladers such as yourself" He paused his speech, making sure that Bryan was still listening "You're lucky we're still recruiting"  
"Biovolt corporation?"  
"Ah yes, Biovolt is an acronym for: Beybladers Intent On Victory Over Lawless Tyranny; we're backed by a very powerful investor known as Voltaire, who has made all of this truly possible" Boris explained "Here at Balkov Abbey, we can take your exisisting talents and hone them, turning you into a unbeatable Beyblader"  
"And if I'm not interested?"  
"Well that would be most regretful, but I doubt a homeless street urchin like yourself would be sadly missed by anyone" Boris replied, in almost mournful tones "But I have every confidence that you'll see the benefits of joining us, and make the right decision"  
Bryan shivered involuntary "You're wrong" He managed "I have a family and I will be missed"  
"I highly doubt that, m'boy; if you had a place to go or a family to take care of you, you wouldn't be breaking and entering into unknown buildings looking and smelling as you do" Boris countered "But it was a nice try; now what do you say about joining us here at the Biovolt corporation and letting us transform you into the ultimate Beyblader?"  
"I'd rather rot in hell" Bryan remarked "But seeing as though I don't really have a choice, I accept"  
Boris offered the same eerie smile as he had a number of times before "I'm glad to hear it" He replied, a look of genuine satisfaction blooming across his face "Welcome to our family"

-


End file.
